Chapter I: An Interview Containing an Outline

It was the 8th of January. I sat down for lunch at a small table in a Nashville hotel. Presently the head waiter conducted to a seat opposite me a young man, seemingly about 22 years of age. He was a handsome, wholesome looking young man, and had an air of self-reliance. He impressed me at first sight as being a typical young American; at any rate he was decidedly attractive to the narrator, whose grey head could but reveal his advanced years.

While awaiting the lunches, a casual remark about the weather opened conversation. A waiter brought an afternoon paper. On the front page was a picture of Andrew Jackson, and big headlines over accounts of celebrations in memory of the victory at New Orleans in 1815.

The young man, with the superiority of youthful knowledge, exclaimed:

“Why all this to-do about a battle which was a needless one? It was a brilliant victory, and salved American pride at the time; but that is now four generations in the past. We should not go on salving our pride over a useless victory, and especially when it was over a country now our strong and perpetual friend. We don’t need anything to boost our pride any more. We are now the greatest nation on earth.”

While responding to the fervor in the young man’s last sentence, I felt a kind of joy in his prelude, which I knew was based on history that I knew to be false.

In brief explanation, let me say that for some years, I have been engaged in research work as to the true value of the battle of New Orleans, resulting in the conviction that the current appraisal in school histories is entirely erroneous. I therefore welcomed the opportunity to develop the truth to this typical young American. I decided upon the gradual approach rather than a frontal attack, which might result in amour propre resentment.

I said in a casual tone:

“Permit me to take issue with you. Suppose I should tell you that the Battle of New Orleans was not a needless battle; that it was, in fact, the second most important military event in the life of our republic? Suppose I should say to you that it was not fought after peace, but during war?”

The young man looked at me, first with a show of impatience, and then with a tolerant air.

“My only answer,” he returned, “is that you haven’t read our modern histories. I have. The Peace Treaty of Ghent was signed Christmas Eve, 1814. Sailing vessels were the quickest means of communication at that time, and so it was more than six weeks before the news reached our people. During that interim the Battle of New Orleans was fought. So you see it was quite useless except as a contribution to American pride.”

“Have you read that treaty?” I asked.

“Sure,” he responded, “that is, I have read several reliable digests. They all say the treaty was silent as to Impressment and Orders in Council, which caused our declaration of war, and that it amounted to a simple agreement to stop fighting and go back to the status before the war.”

As I was calculating on my next move the young man resumed:

“We had a debate at school last year on the question, ‘Resolved, that the United States won the War of 1812.’ I took the ground that it was a draw, and my side won. So you can see that I am well posted on that war.”

He had a polite, patronizing air, and this decided me upon a direct blow.

“I thank you,” said I; “I have also closely studied the events of this War of 1812. I have read some more or less superficial comments on the Peace Treaty of Ghent. I have also read the Treaty itself, word by word. In precise specific terms, that document stipulated that it was not to be effective until ratified by both sides.”

The young man gave an inquiring look, and commented:

“That of course is important, if true.”

“It is true,” I replied. “You can verify the fact in fifteen minutes. A few blocks from where we sit is a Carnegie Library in which you can find a volume containing various treaties of the United States. The Treaty of Ghent is among them. It is called the Treaty of Amity.”

“May I ask who you are?” questioned the young man, with a changed and puzzled mien.

“I am a member of the Committee appointed by the State to make research into the real value of the Battle of New Orleans.”

“I am delighted to know you,” said the young man. “I love to discuss history, which reveals the foundation of our existing social structure. There are some questions I would like to ask of you. First, since the Treaty was eventually ratified, aren’t our historians while technically wrong, in saying the Battle of New Orleans occurred after Peace, and was a useless battle, really in the right, for the reason that the battle really had no effect upon the Peace Treaty?”

“It is true,” I replied, “the Treaty adopted at Ghent, Dec. 24, 1814, was ratified soon after its reception in Washington, and promulgated the next day, Feb. 18, 1815. That was after the news of the victory at New Orleans had reached Washington.

“But suppose the result at New Orleans had been different, would President Madison have signed the Treaty?

“That is a real question for college debate. It is a question calculated to bring sharply to the student the picture of the distracted condition of our country at the time. By signing the treaty Madison would have appeased the New England section, then in hostile and threatening attitude, but at the same time would have faced the surrender of the territory west of the Mississippi for all time, or faced future negotiation or war. By refusing to sign, the President would have prolonged the war with its uncertainties. At the same time he would have confronted possible disunion through the open disaffection of the northeastern states. The English government construed the disaffection as a threat of secession.

“It was planned by that calculating government, as evidence shows, to inveigle New England into a separate treaty in case after British capture and occupation of New Orleans, Madison should refuse to ratify the Ghent treaty. Thus, if the issue in that New Orleans affair had been different, President Madison would have faced danger of disunion, on one side or the other.

“It would be hard to conceive of a graver situation. All this was averted, and gloriously averted, by the victory at New Orleans, the news of which caused the treaty to be joyfully ratified.”

“Haven’t you overdrawn the picture?” asked the young man. “Isn’t it a fact that the treaty provided for the return of all territory taken during the war, so that, if the English had captured New Orleans they would have given it up?”

“My dear young friend,” I replied, “I have not overdrawn the picture. The mutual restoration clause provided that all territory, places and possessions, taken by either, were to be returned at effective peace. Bear in mind that England had never conceded the validity of our title to the Louisiana Domain, and so if the carefully planned design to capture it had been successful, England was in position to hold that she did not regard it as a legal possession of the United States, and as not subject to return under the Peace Treaty. It is a violence to credibility to suppose that England, after finally dispatching the big expedition against Louisiana, would within a few weeks thereafter, agree to a peace treaty, recalling her troops from an anticipated successful conquest. In the light of present knowledge, the peace proceedings show a studied purpose to protect the expedition sent out to capture New Orleans. The supposition, advanced by many historians, that if England had captured New Orleans, she would have given it up, is a reflection upon the intelligence of the English government of that period, and really, ascribes to that government egregious asininity. Now, with all of her blunders, England has never been asinine.”

The young man listened intently, gave an inhaled “Oh,” and then added:

“I begin to see; but there are some questions I want to ask. First, when and why and how did this error get in history?”

“A natural inquiry,” I responded. “I cannot definitely answer, nor is a definite answer vital. However, I will give one conjecture; Jackson became a national figure as a result of the Battle of New Orleans. While acclaimed by the masses, Jackson had many bitter enemies, some of them in the history writing class. Prejudice may have caused disparagement of the importance of the event upon which his national fame is founded. But all that is of small importance beside the establishment of the actual truth, that the battle was not fought after peace, but that it was necessary to prevent England’s conquest of Louisiana. Thus, as I have said before, the Battle was the second most important military event in the life of the Republic.”

“Now my other questions,” said the young man; “why has such an error been allowed to go unchallenged all these generations?”

“Another natural question,” I answered. “It is a question that must come to every mind in approaching this matter of clarification. I am not able to answer this question definitely, just as I was not able to answer your other question with any degree of certainty. The answer is not vital, except from the standpoint of the problem involved, of overcoming the inertia of a long-enthroned lie. My conjecture is that the false appraisal began when civil upheaval was imminent, and when most people were thinking only of the present—a state of mind which was continued for a long time. So the viewpoint of prejudice, unopposed, gradually crept into accepted history. There have been, and are, students of history adhering to the great fact that the Battle of New Orleans saved the Louisiana purchase, or another war with England. But school histories continue to purvey the false viewpoint to the youth of the land. But ‘truth is mighty and will prevail,’ and the time has now come.”

At this point a bell boy brought me a card, and I arose to bid goodbye to my young friend, saying;

“They have come for me, to go to the Hermitage for the exercises being held there today.”

The young man said:

“I wish it were so you could take me.”

I arranged to do so, very much pleased at this change in his attitude.